


The Final Braid

by enderburg



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Technoblade - Fandom, dream - Fandom
Genre: Angst, DreamSMP - Freeform, Gen, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Minecraft, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28384494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enderburg/pseuds/enderburg
Summary: Death can really change the scariest of people, especially when death becomes intertwined with the man you call father. It drives people insane, it drives the already insane to something even worse. Grief.
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing a fanfic so i dont really know how many chapters this will be in, that’s something i’d need to work out (if i end up continuing this)

* * *

Chapter 1: Dandelions

* * *

A gentle breeze danced from the sky brushing the pink hair to positions that weren’t natural to it. The hair stood out amongst the icy blue sky, but so did everything about Technoblade. He didn’t care though, nothing could ever stop him from spending his evenings sat on the rocks surrounded by blades of grass and patches of dandelions. Not even death could stop him. He tugs assertively on the stands of hair in front of his eyes causing him to become even more visually impaired. From a distance he could make out a faint splash of yellow and red, but not dandelions. This wasn’t a weed yellow, more of a yellow that reminds people of happiness, honey and sunshine.

“Techno?” He could hear Wilbur say in the background. It was comforting to hear such a plentiful voice call his name. 

He knew in a matter of moments Wilbur would be sat behind him, hair in hand, humming some sort of song about L’Manburg to himself, and that no matter how hard Techno would try to resist Wilbur would continue on forming a long but loose braid in his hair. It was a personal checklist Techno would have in his head every time Wilbur followed him over to the rocks.

“Techno! Hello!” Wilbur cheered as he sat down in usual spot. 

“Wilbur” He responded as monotone as every time before. Wilbur understood that one word spoke for the voices of many others and that those voices spoke for millions more. That’s what Techno was made up from, voices. It was nothing he could control of course but it is what it is. The voices. Techno hated that Wilbur knew about _them._

Techno sat as still as he possibly could while Wilbur began brushing his hair through his fingers as tough as he saw fit. Never too tough, never too gentle. Techno hated when he couldn’t feel the strands of his hair being plaited together. He hated not knowing what was happening, even with minor things. As much as Techno hated what Wilbur knew and how much he disagreed with his choices with L’Manburg he couldn’t help but feel a little more at peace during times like this with him. It’s moments like this, with Wilbur, that made him feel free again. He often described Wilbur as the wind that had gained a voice of songbirds. Techno always chose those words carefully for Wilbur because he truly meant what he said. The breeze wove in and out of his hair and right under his nose, it smelt like freedom. It smelt like Wilbur. Wilbur had the scent of freedom, the voice of wisdom and protected the ideas of everyone. Techno had the scent of hell fire, the voice of the eagles and protected _himself_ from the ideas of everyone. He had no idea how they got along. 

  
Techno was an anarchist, Wilbur was the government.

”Ow. No need to pull so damn hard.” Techno called out. “Sorry, sorry.” Wilbur rushed to apologise, returning back to his original strength. Wilbur was a lot stronger than Techno wanted to acknowledge, probably because, deep down that scared him. A lot of things scared Techno. Techno scared Techno. 

Before Techno knew it, Wilbur was tying the hair tie around the little stump of hair at the bottom of the braid, just in time for the rain. Naturally, the rain had to ruin his sunshine. The rain had to bring about darkness. Darkness followed Techno everywhere. 

It was raining.

”Technoblade!” a assertive voice spoke breaking his stare into space and putting a pause on his daydream. Techno never daydreamed. 

It was raining. The clouds were gray and present, the sun nowhere to be seen. The grass cold and crunchy under the pressure of his hooves. The wind had gone form a breeze to a rush, it no longer sang to him instead screamed the scream of a thousand sirens. The patches of dandelions had depleted down to just 5. They no longer sat in groups, they sat on top of a mound of dirt, their leaves frowning. It was raining. 

Fitting for a funeral, really.


	2. Strands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does the idea of family really mean anything in a world full of traitors and destruction? Death would usually answer that by bringing families together, but death is the reason Technoblade is asking in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow i finally wrote a second chapter to this. this is also a lot longer than the first chapter i think

* * *

Chapter 2: Strands

* * *

It was raining. Techno could feel the droplets slide down the bridge of his nose and onto his chin and then eventually they'd hit his hooves never to be seen again. The rain harmonized with the crunch the grass made and the hellish wails of those around him. A harmony it was, whether it was one of peace and beauty is a different conversation to have. Given the current event it would be easy to assume that the harmony was one of heartbreak and grief, though Techno couldn't be sure on that exactly. He just knew that it was ironic for such a thing to happen at his brothers funeral. Wilbur's unfinished symphony finally being finished. Every so often the wind would rush in as background noise in the song at a inconvenience for Techno. The more the wind chimed in the looser and looser his braid would become. His final braid, the last one Wilbur ever sat and gave him. Not that it meant anything to him, it was just a stupid hair style, right? It was just a way to keep his vision clear. That's why he'd considered cutting it all off multiple times, more than ever since the 16th though. He just wanted the best vision he could have for what was going to come. After being disturbed from his unexpected daydream he'd started to notice things like the rain droplets clearer than ever, probably because of the heavy rain pour though. He did only have his usual, shabby, falling apart gown to keep him dry and warm. His gown always did the job though, that's why he wore it everywhere but today Techno felt colder than ever before and he couldn't work out why. He pulled it closer to his body in an attempt to solve his problem but saw no successes.

The grounds where Wilbur's body would be buried were populated with the rain, it was the most common thing there, at a funeral the most common presence was rain. Nobody showed up, nobody except for Techno and Phil. Technoblade had assumed that people such as Tommy and Tubbo, his best friends, showed up earlier to get some time alone. He couldn't have been anymore wrong. Tommy and Tubbo weren't there because they came earlier, they weren't there because they weren't coming at all. Nobody else was coming, Wilbur died alone and trapped in his own mind, he wasn't free. He died alone and was remembered almost alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. 

The anarchist and government set of twins transformed into the weapon of war and prisoner of war. 

"Technoblade!" the assertive voice that disturbed his daydream spoke again, there was only so long he could actually actively ignore it given that he was no longer in a world of his own. He knew this voice all to well.

It was Phil, his best friend, his _father_. 

Techno turned is body to face Phil, only to be met with a sight that, to most people, would be nightmare fueling. Phil stood there tall, different but tall. His smile had changed, it no longer welcomed everyone in to a safe haven. His smile welcomed destruction of those save havens he once built up and protected. Every part of him welcomed destruction, he was gone. The green that Techno once related to Phil, the green that Phil wore proudly like his armor, their friendship emeralds. All of it was painted red. Phil hadn't gone out of his way to use a paintbrush and actually paint the green red as such but the blade he held tightly in his grip had. The enchantments shined the shine of fire. They were stood on the closest thing to the path to hell. Techno was an atheist but this was hell, his own hell. Phil wasn't supposed to be the destroyer, he was supposed to be the healer. He might be part bird but to Techno, those wings were the wings of his guardian angel. Of course Phil wasn't actually stood in front of Techno in such a way but this was all Technoblade could see in Phil now it was stuck there in the front of his brain, no matter if Phil was stood as happy as ever it was all he could see. A constant reminder.

This man was no father to him or to any of his siblings. 

Technoblade wasn't the best at understanding feelings but he knew that whatever fatherly bond he had with Phil, it was buried deep by something so much stronger, something scarier. As much as he felt this thing towards his father, he still considered him a best friend. He might have lost his brother and father on November 16th but he couldn't loose his best friend in the aftermath, he wasn't going to play a losing game. Technoblade could not be alone. Wilbur may have died alone, but being alone would kill him.

Being alone would let the voices win, they fed on Technoblade's loneliness. " _Kill him. Phil. Phil. He murdered Wilbur, Phil murdered Wilbur. Kill him. Kill him. Phil. Phil._ " They were screaming, in Wilbur's death they had gained a voice and they were using it to torment Techno. Usually, Phil would be the one thing that they'd demand Techno would protect no matter what. Techno was doing everything he could to ignore them because he needed his best friend. As much as they were right, he did murder Wilbur, Techno had done way worse. 

Techno had done enough mental stalling and he knew he had to engage in some sort of conversation with Phil, things were only going to get louder in his head if he didn't.

”Phil.” He hummed in his usual monotone voice, never too emotional but never emotionless. “Good to see you’re here.” Techno was trying his best to make idol conversation, however, his head was getting louder. 

The air between them was crispier than usual, but given the recent events that was expected, they were also stood right beside the grave of Wilbur. 

“Wilbur would want people to be here today, he enjoyed the attention.” Phil was right, Wilbur thrived on attention and power. That’s how it all began, L’manburg, Pogtopia, the festival, all of this. Techno couldn’t help but let out a loose laugh at the point being made. He’d always imaged what things would be like if Ghostbur was a lot less... Ghostbur and more like Wilbur. 

He missed Wilbur, as much as he kept it private, he did. 

Their conversation went on at a slow pace, though the speed of what they were saying was the last thing Technoblade was focusing on. Conversation was hard enough for him, but standing their in front of Phil seeing the only image of him that his mind will let him see, hearing the ghastly screams of the voices in his head, it made conversation sickening for him. Nothing that was being said was registering in his mind, he wasn’t even aware of what he was saying. That was his first blunder. Not having control of what he was saying. Every sound his body made was drowned out by his mind instantly, he was stuck in a limbo of his mentality. Loneliness would kill him, in more ways that just physically. 

“ _He murdered Wilbur. Wilbur. Wilbur. WILBUR. Murderer. Phil. Kill. He murdered Wilbur. Murderer. Murderer. Kill. Kill. Kill. Phil._ ”

He didn’t know this man. The man stood in front of him, that wasn’t the man he started the Antarctic Empire with. He didn’t promise the world to this man. He didn’t know him, but he needed him.

“For you the world, Phil.” is a thing he has only said once, and he said it to his Father. Not this man. Though, somehow he knew what he needed to say to him, to Phil. Amongst everything else he was currently experiencing, something was talking to him above the voices. He wasn’t sure wether he liked what it was saying better or worse but it was something different, for once it was something different. 

The outside conversation between them both was still going but Phil could feel a change in the air come between them, he didn’t like the change but it was bearable. He could sense the state Techno was in, he of all people had seen it before multiple times. 

“Techno, my son.” He said in his usual tone of voice to give Techno a sense of familiarity. There was no familiarity in what he just said.

_My son._

Wilbur was his son too. 


End file.
